Anapneo
by Mellifluous Violet
Summary: Set during Hermione's 7th Year, October 1998. On a visit away from Hogwarts, something goes terribly wrong. Hermione is missing and Ron and Harry set out to find her.
1. Chapter 1

_Warning, this story will be dark. I'm hoping to make this one long and detailed, since those are my favorite sorts of fics to read and I haven't come across many new ones about these favorite characters of mine. If you have any suggestions, please send them my way! In the meantime, I'll be working on this story. This first chapter is Hermione POV, but that will change, as well as chapter length (this will be the shortest of them all). Please let me know what you think._

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"C'mere," he called hoarsely, pulling her from her reverie. The tingling sensation shot up her calf muscles from sitting on the hard floor too long as she neatly folded clothes back into her bag. Just three days had she been away from school, and she had been silly enough to pack enough for a week in her hurry to arrive at Grimmauld Place. Knowing that Ron would never forgive her if she brought along homework, Hermione had at least managed to complete all her her assignments before leaving Hogwarts, ensuring that her pack was much lighter as well without multiple books.

The lanky wizard was sprawled out across the dusty, colossal bed that narrowly filled one of the many bedrooms in the old house he shared with their other best friend. The familiar grey shirt that once drowned him was now pulled tightly across his chest. His hair was growing quite long, but still shorter than she remembered it being at school. Ginger stubble appeared more easily now as well, scratching her face lightly when she was close enough. Bright blue eyes met brown with a shock of intensity. Hermione still couldn't quite believe this was real life.

"Sorry," she whispered, breaking contact with his gaze to stand shakily. Her clean uniform was laid out on the velvet armchair, ready to be worn early the next morning. After a quick bath earlier, she managed to get her hair in good enough shape that she should be able to wake right up without having to stop by her dormitory for Sleekeazy's. Transfiguration was first thing, luckily. The new professor who had taken Minerva's post was a far cry from her predecessor, often asking Hermione to demonstrate the more difficult spells for the other students as a somewhat obvious guise for being unsure of them herself. Hermione had actually taken pity on her. While continuing to study under McGonagall would have been preferable, at least the current situation allowed the young witch certain privileges. Such as long weekends with Ronald Weasley.

With three steps she was by his side, unable to hide the smirk on her face as his lopsided grin grew two sizes. He made her so… _giddy_. It was maddening.

The entire weekend had been simply glorious. Long, slow afternoons filled with early October sunshine as they strolled around the neighborhood and nights spent flirting over hot chocolate in the library. He'd listened patiently to her updates about the state of the school and the new suite for Muggle Studies and the tutoring program she had started with the other prefects to serve the overload of muggle-born students who had been denied access to their magical education last year. He seemed proud of her for what she was doing at Hogwarts. She took comfort in his affirmation, as many days she wondered if she had been insane to go back. Especially without her two best friends.

Harry had splurged on renting a cottage in Hogsmeade with Ginny, giving his best mates the run of the house in London. It had been the first uninterrupted time the couple had had together since Hermione had left in September. Despite all of the responsibility to distract her, the witch had vastly underestimated how much she would miss Ron for those stretches of time in between.

"I see you've made yourself quite comfortable in _my_ bed. Any room for me here?" she teased, leaning in towards him. His eyes shone mischievously. The calloused hands that had been clasped behind his head reached out and pulled her up. Hiking a leg up onto the bed and rolling towards him dramatically, Hermione then nestled her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Her heart twisted painfully as she thought of having to return to her lonely four-poster the next day. As if in reply, she felt Ron exhale deeply beneath her.

When hurriedly packing just days ago, the brunette had failed to consider possible sleeping arrangements. Those long months in the tent last year had seen Hermione through two very threadbare sets of pajamas, which had grown so faded that she was downright delighted to be reunited with her storage trunk of old clothing. The cool autumn nights at Hogwarts were nothing compared to the frigid winter the year before, when even the most powerful of warming spells and layers of socks couldn't bring feeling to her numb toes. When she had visited a few weeks prior to celebrate her birthday, she found to her delight that Ron and Harry had rolled out lumpy sleeping bags. The familiar snores of her two favorite people in the world had lulled Hermione to sleep immediately, but this time around she slept cuddled up next to Ron Weasley in "her" room. He hadn't left her side since she appeared in the adjacent alleyway three days prior.

She felt Ron's large hand slide up her arm, creeping under the fabric of her long sleeve. A delicious shiver came over her, causing the redhead to squeeze her a fraction tighter. Acting on impulse, she planted a wet kiss firmly on the column of his neck.

"Gonna miss you," he murmured, cold nose coming into contact with the top of her head. They lay still for several moments. Hermione wondered if he had fallen asleep until she felt his other hand pull her long hair to the side, massaging the back of her head lightly. The tenderness with which he showed his affection made her heart swell ten sizes.

Ron had grown up before her very eyes. His muscles, his jaw, his voice even – all were so much more defined in the past year. His confidence had developed as well. Gone was the insecure, jealous boy who acted out of impulse. Hermione saw a kind of transformation in his character as he began the auror training programme and stepped in to help his parents get back on their feet. He was even helping George clean up the old shop on the weekends. He wrote her the cheekiest of letters without fail every other day, but ensured that at least one long paragraph detailed how much he missed having the witch by his side. She reread every one several times before falling asleep in Gryffindor Tower each night, surrounded by sleeping classmates.

"I miss you already," she whispered, surprising both of them as her voice broke. She felt him pull back, gently using the hand tangled in her hair to bring them face to face. Hermione shifted so that her cheek rested on the pillow but averted his eyes. Hers were already beginning to brim with emotion.

"Hey," he whispered, bringing an arm securely over her waist. "It'll just be a few weeks, yeah? I'll get a day off at Halloween."

Hermione suppressed her groan of displeasure. _That was 27 days away_. Instead of responding, she burrowed her face in his neck again and breathed in his Ron-ish scent – sugary, minty, clean. Their hands met and her fingers interlocked with his, holding tightly. He read her well enough to know she needed a distraction as he sought out her lips with his own. He tasted so wonderful and sweet. _Oh, Merlin. Why had she ever signed up for another year of school?_

They eventually pulled apart long enough for Ron to turn off the light and Hermione tucked her legs under the heavy covers. While she couldn't see the wizard, she felt an incredible peace wash over her as the mattress dipped even lower behind her and he drew her back snugly against his chest. She tried to match her breathing with his own, copying his steady, measured exhales.

She woke with a start, momentarily forgetting where she was. It was still dark, though she could make out the inky blue pre-dawn from behind the thick satin curtains. Her heart thumped with dread, knowing she would soon kiss the handsome sleeping wizard to her left and make her way back to Hogwarts. He radiated warmth, making it even harder for her draw back the blanket and slip out of bed to get ready in the bathroom down the hall.

The witch returned a few moments later, fully dressed in uniform. Ron had sat up and turned on the light, though his squinting eyes indicated that he had not yet fully woken up. She wished she could stay long enough to make him breakfast.

"Good morning," she said brightly, feigning cheer. "Go back to sleep. You've still got time before work." Her bossy tone was already making an appearance in preparation for the inevitable commands that came with being Head Girl. She knew she needed to hurry in order to make it back on time.

His presence was magnetic, however, and she found herself pausing, glancing back at him, and then quickly making her way back to bed and climbing into his lap. A sad little smile crossed his face as his hand smoothed her skirt, eventually resting on her stockinged knee. A series of light kisses ghosted against her temple.

Right as she was about to tell him she should go, his lips found hers in a dazzling kiss that made her dizzy. The witch wanted nothing more than to straddle his waist and fall back into the cozy sanctuary behind them. Hogwarts be damned.

"Love you," he said sleepily, resting his forehead against hers. She panted, still trying to breathe properly after such a kiss. After another moment they both seemed to sense the urgency of time. The portkey wouldn't wait for her.

Ron helped her to her feet and they made the short trip down the stretch of creaking stairs, through the front door, and around the corner, her bag draped over the redheaded wizard's shoulder. Hermione glanced at her watch, noting that she had about a minute before the ornate, heavy lantern would enchant her back to the glimmering grounds of Hogwarts Castle. She really did owe Professor Lenore several favors at this point. The lantern had brought her here a few weeks prior for her birthday as well as this weekend, giving back the time that would have otherwise been spent sitting on the train instead of with the boy she loved.

The brunette straightened her sweater and checked her watch again for good measure, knowing that she would need to move quickly in order to make it to class without rousing suspicion from the other students. She hadn't even told Professor McGonagall, knowing that the headmistress would surely disapprove.

With a sniff, Hermione turned to her boyfriend and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. His hands immediately found her waist and he held her tightly, breath tickling her ear. "Take care, love," he whispered before letting go.

She could already sense the powerful magic radiating from the glimmering lantern. Taking her bag in her right hand and wiping back a loose tear with her left, Hermione stepped forward with a shaky breath. She reached forward and grasped the handle of the object, readying herself for the nausea that came from traveling via portkey.

The familiar alley began to spin; however after a few seconds of chaos, Hermione sensed that something had gone very, very wrong.

 _A/N: Please follow along with this story if you're intrigued. I'd love reviews to see what you all think of this one so far!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: This is my first story with a real plot/mystery – it's more daunting that I would have thought. I'm afraid of plot holes, but at the same time, I really want to write something that is suspenseful. Thank you for taking the time to tell me your thoughts so far. I appreciate ideas of how to carry this along._

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Number 12 Grimmauld Place was plenty dismal on even the sunniest of days, but the great house was exceptionally gloomy after Ronald Weasley bid farewell to his girlfriend. The sadness that accompanied with her leaving engulfed him. Forcing himself to get ready for training and a full day of work, he was constantly bombarded with thoughts of her. The way she laughed, the crinkle of her nose – the giddiness he felt when she looped her arm in his as they walked about the neighborhood. Having her around made the dust-filled library a haven, the dismal kitchen a refuge, his ornate bedroom a sanctuary. He missed hearing her sensible brain rattle off solutions to his problems. _"Ron, you and Harry wouldn't hate cooking in here if you just spent a day cleaning. Here, look – this spell makes old cauldrons like new."_

On a day like this, he longed to stretch out next to her on the grass by the lake and flirt like the other couples. They'd never had the chance to do that at school. Would she have let him hold her hand under the table in the Great Hall? Snogged in a broom closet during rounds? Gods, he missed her.

The decision to not finish at Hogwarts had been easy for Harry. After all he sacrificed last year (and his entire bloody life, really) he saw the world through a different lens than most his age. Ron didn't want to go to Hogwarts because he never liked school even when he had the choice. He was offered a great opportunity at the ministry – why give that up? He didn't regret his decision, but had to face the ramifications.

Telling Hermione had been hell. She suspected Harry might not return, but assumed Ron would join her. The long summer days spent rebuilding the school were healing for all of them. He no longer shuddered when he passed the place where Fred died, though he never went out of his way to pass through that way. The carnage was cleaned away, the stone repaved, the furniture repaired, the memorial erected. Students re-enrolled, professors hired and re-hired, quidditch and clubs and choir reinstated. It was magnificent to see Hogwarts returning to its former glory. Still, it didn't feel right to come back as a student. Somewhere deep down, Ron knew he wasn't supposed to return.

He rubbed his face wearily as he sat down in his cube to pen a letter. His day had been downright terrible. He'd burned his hand badly while hastily making breakfast, wrapping it in a dirty bandage that caused his supervisor to send him straight to the ministry mediwitch as soon as he saw it. He was subsequently chewed out by his division head for showing up late to morning training. Following a grueling morning of tactical drills, he now nursed an awful headache. It wasn't even lunchtime! Since he watched Hermione spin away, his mood had soured dramatically.

The weekend had been an absolute gift. Training was brutal, and he wondered sometimes if he was really cut out for this. If he had to be completely honest, spending his weekends helping a grieving George remove the graffiti and piles of rubbish from the gloomy Number 93 Diagon Alley wasn't much of a holiday from the day-to-day routine of auror training, either. Having Hermione in London with him, even for a fleeting weekend, had been glorious. Being able to touch her, to hear her voice. She radiated with purpose. The year they spent in hiding had nearly made Ron forget how much the witch thrived while learning. The opportunity to be taught and be tested – those were experiences he knew she wanted at least one more year of. While he didn't regret giving her his blessing, that didn't help the misery of having her so far away.

He knew she was always bloody busy and didn't want to stress her out, but he couldn't help but share the news that his trainer had granted everyone in his unit an extended two days' leave over Halloween. Hoping she might be able to convince McGonagall or that new professor of hers for an extra day, his heart exploded at the thought of getting more than two nights with her. The first night always went by too fast for both of them, and the second night was shrouded in the suffocating reality that it was their last.

She'd bloody well earned more time off. Heading up the memorial committee of students to honor those whose lives were lost at Hogwarts, tutoring students who were so behind from last year's pitiful teaching from Death Eaters, and of course her Head Girl duties on top of homework and courses. Her letters were enlightening and thorough, detailing her day-to-day so well that Ron didn't have to try hard to imagine walking the familiar halls with her. The portions of her letters he treasured, however, were the paragraphs dedicated to how much she missed him. What made her think of him during the day, or how much she was looking forward to their next reunion. The elegant, sprawling, "love you" that accompanied each one. His heart thumped madly no matter how many times he read those words or heard her utter them.

Dipping his quill into ink, Ron thought through how to begin.

Would she find completely him barmy if he took her to see the fairy lights in Ireland over Halloween? The season was coming to an end, but Bill promised it was an exceedingly romantic sort of thing to do. Ron chucked, thanking his lucky stars that it was Hermione he ended up with instead of his sister-in-law, whose affections were thankfully never returned despite his lust-fueled former crush.

He quickly glanced over the parchment, eager to send this off before his next meeting.

 _Hermione,_

 _I miss you. Actually, that's an understatement, but I don't want your first letter from me since you get back to school to be too depressing. Hope Hogwarts is still in one piece after you left. I know how much everyone depends on you there. Don't be too mean to the first years – remember that even Harry and I needed Percy to lighten up sometimes. The best adventures come from a bit of bravery. That doesn't apply to Slytherins, though. Give em' hell._

 _Great news that I hope makes your day better – we've been given not just one, but two days off at Halloween. Maybe we could go someplace nice? I have a few ideas. Grimmauld Place won't cut it this time. You deserve better._

 _Thank you for visiting me this weekend. I love you._

 _I love you._

 _I love you._

 _Ron_

He winced at how sappy this sounded, but meant every word. Sealing it up quickly, he rose to send it off at the ministry owlery. Choosing a large, sturdy looking one, Ron ensured the note was tightly secured to the bird before sending it off. He technically wasn't supposed to use them for personal mail, but he figured he worked his arse off enough to send a bloody letter.

"Good weekend, mate?" Harry called over the heads of a few witches and wizards, sending his own letter presumably off to his sister. The raven-haired wizard looked completely knackered.

"The best. Ended too soon," he replied, trying to hide the surliness in his tone. Harry nodded. They were both in the same boat. "Hogsmeade treat you well?"

He ignored the blush that covered Harry's face. He'd come to terms with the fact that his best mate and only sister were together, but that didn't mean he needed details.

"Excellently. They've reopened nearly every shop. Aberforth says hi," he responded, glancing at his watch. "We better head back. They'll have our heads if one of us is late again."

The two wizards caught up as they descended down the wiry staircase, hustling to return to the auror office. Harry prattled on about how drastically different everything looked since the last time they had paid a visit to Hogsmeade. Ron shuddered as he recalled the means Voldemort's followers took to transform the quaint village.

"Did Ginny head back this morning or last night? I was surprised you weren't back at the house," Ron asked, hoping he didn't sound too nosy. Truth be told, he was more than happy to have Hermione all to himself for one last evening, though he was a bit taken aback to not come across Harry until training that morning.

"Last night. Had Charms first thing and couldn't be late. She also did none of her homework before she left, so she had to make it back in time to copy Hermione's."

Ron chuckled. Ginny learned from the best.

" So you're telling me that you willingly paid for an extra night alone at the Hog's Head? I see how it is," Ron teased, elbowing Harry in the ribs.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, erm, I wanted to give you and Hermione some privacy. You don't get to see each other often. I know how much you missed her."

Ron's ears burned. _Would talking about their relationships ever not be weird?_

"Er…thanks, mate," Ron muttered, unsure of how else to respond. They walked in silence, both worlds away from the Ministry of Magic.

Once they reached their floor, a flurry of activity broke their reveries. Two figures in cloaks stood in front of the entrance to their suite. As the boys got closer, they realized that the witches were demanding to enter the office, which was tightly secured by a guard. Ron and Harry could casually walk through, but visitors required appointments. A few people lingered in the hallway to stop and witness the somewhat heated exchange.

"I don't _care_ that I'm not on your list, sir! I need to speak with someone here immediately. Step aside or I will be forced to call for Minister Shacklebolt myself-"

"Professor….Professor McGonagall?!" Harry cried in disbelief. Ron's stomach dropped as the elderly witch turned, fury in her eyes. He would recognize that pointed hat anywhere. She stood tall above the pudgy witch next to her, a younger woman with soft blonde hair. Her expression was unreadable – something between dread and alarm.

Minerva cried out when she saw the familiar wizards, motioning at once for them to come closer. Ron felt like she was staring him down, daring him to confess to some misadventure from his days at school.

"Oh, thank heavens! Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter - I must speak to you at once," she hissed, bending her neck so that others couldn't overhear. "I must ask you something extremely important. When is the last time you saw Ms. Granger?"

Confusion flooded Ron. Why was the Headmistress of Hogwarts at the Ministry, about to hex the guard into the Department of Mysteries if he didn't let her inside? Had she been waiting for them, or was she intending to meet with someone else? And why in Merlin's name was she asking about Hermione? He blinked several times, trying to comprehend what was going on.

"Hermione? She was with me this weekend. She left around seven this morning, back to school by Portkey," he answered, unnerved by McGongall's intense gaze.

"Mr. Weasley, only myself and the Minister of Magic have the ability to allow portkeys in and out of Hogwarts grounds, and I assure you, neither of us have created one," she replied quickly, voice laced with concern.

Ron gulped. Was she accusing him of doing something illegal? Hermione wasn't stupid – she wouldn't create something to intentionally break the rules.

"It was a lantern! Real old, and kind of heavy. She said her professor let her use it." Ron noticed the tremor in his voice. Why couldn't Hermione just explain this herself?

The blonde witch averted his eyes, toying with the hem of her jacket. She remained silent, but was clearly invested in the conversation. Minerva pressed him, stepping closer and pursing her lips before responding. " _Which_ professor, Mr. Weasley?" There was no mistaking the way she enunciated each word. This was not good.

"I dunno!" he cried, exasperated. _She never mentioned their name – why should she?_

"What's happened, then? Is she hurt?" Harry asked nervously, finally inserting himself into the conversation. Ron's vision suddenly went red. He hadn't even considered that – now it was all starting to make sense. Why else would the bloody Headmistress of Hogwarts was standing in front of him, asking these questions? But it didn't make sense! Hermione had made it to London just fine with the same portkey. And he had watched her leave – nothing seemed out of the ordinary at all.

"Where is she, Professor?" Ron asked urgently, setting his face like flint towards the graying woman. She held his gaze, eyes seemingly searching for something Ron's might hold.

"We were hoping you would be the one to tell us that, Mr. Weasley."


End file.
